Those born and brought up
on a staple diet of private TV channels can scarcely believe that there
was a time when Doordarshan reigned supreme, but they who were witness
to that era would recall how it dominated one’s life. Bhaskar Ghose
headed the organisation in the turbulent 1980s and played an
instrumental role in all that it was notorious for. He has now penned
those bitter-sheet memories in a no-holds-barred fashion and made it as
racy as a spy thriller.

The reason for this easy
flow is that he has neither pulled his punches nor hesitated to name
names. What viewers found most jarring in the performance of Doordarshan
was equally unpalatable to him and he candidly tells us why the
unthinkable happened. Understandably, he emerges as the good guy in this
rogues’ gallery. After all, the book is not about his own performance.

One agrees with him that
the story of Doordarshan is essentially a tragedy. It’s the tale of a
publicly-funded organisation, deliberately twisted, distorted and made
into a mediocre presenter of programmes lauding the government of the
day and doing so badly for the most part. "Above all, it is the
story of its owner, the Ministry of Information and Broadcasting, in
particular, and the Government of India, in general, not comprehending
or wanting to comprehend the nature and identity of the
organisation," Ghose laments.

Villains of the piece are
politicians who wanted to use DD as their propaganda machine and their
factotums, who were ever-willing to help them in this unholy endeavour.

Ghose recalls how he, a
Commissioner, was plucked from West Bengal and brought to Delhi as the
personal choice of Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi to head DD and transform
it into a world-class broadcaster as good as BBC. He was given a
carte-blanche.

As long as Rajiv was a
force to reckon with, lesser politicians allowed his blue-eyed DD boy to
have his way, but the moment he started losing by-elections here and
there, they crawled out of the woodwork to gnaw at the valuable
institution and chew it hollow.

Appointments were sought
to be made on ministers’ insistence and how an I&B minister, out
to please his fellow MPs, tried—and succeeded—in airing an
amateurish performance by two teenaged girls in the National Programme
of Dance, much to the chagrin of sensible viewers.

Ghose himself was from the
IAS, but he openly acknowledges the havoc wrought by the intrigue and
petty rivalries of his fellow bureaucrats. They never understood the
complexities of TV broadcasting and yet tried everything to dominate it.
Political patronage ensured that the least competent rose in the
profession.

Thanks to the interference
of those who controlled the purse-strings, the making of serials by
Doordarshan producers was an excruciating ordeal. One producer, who had
to show a character on screen breaking a doll in a fit of rage, bought
two dolls, in case she had to reshoot the scene. This led to a major
run-in with the financial adviser.

With DD’s own producers
out of the way, private producers ruled the roost, made a pile and
reduced DD to the status of a peddler of trash.

Ghose recalls how Ramayan
was allowed to be aired despite its mediocre quality and how Ramanand
Sagar used his political contacts to ensure that he dragged the story
over hundreds of episodes. That it gained immense popularity is another
matter.

Mahabharat was a slight
improvement, but some of the special effects were "rather crude,
even comical".

There are shocking details
in the book about how pressure was applied to put stories into news
bulletins. The commercial units never did any marketing.
"Dull-as-ditchwater" coverage of book releases and ministers
opening or closing events was the order of the day. The MPs thought the
English films were pornography. The cameramen who covered cricket had no
knowledge of the game. DD-III and DD International were strangulated.

A minister once tried to
give an extension to a serial by a woman producer because he wanted to
oblige a party colleague. The DG had to counter that "the extension
isn’t possible. I can’t be responsible for every assurance given in
a bedroom".

Then there is another
brush with the same minister, who wants to "personally
interview" a woman presenter of a music programme. The minister
backs off only when told that she happens to be the daughter of an
inspector-general of police. Ghose has even named the minister.

Positive developments are
few and far between. Ghose was shunted out ceremoniously. Some may say
that he has written a few things only out of pique, but insiders in the
government organisations know that the bizarre incidents he reveals are
common in this blunderland.

It’s a pity that things
have not changed much two decades down the line. DD still seems to be
out to please the political bosses.